A Little Dash of Courage
by oneship
Summary: Set during the Riker wedding at the start of 'Nemesis.' My idea of what should have happened between our illustrious couple before the whole movie went horribly wrong... COMPLETE.


Beverly Crusher took a cautious sip of the Romulan ale being liberally, albeit surreptitiously, distributed among the senior crew and select guests. Worf was already under the table—literally—and she didn't want to follow suit.

She smiled as Wes drifted past on the dance floor with a lovely lieutenant in his arms. His likeness to Jack was so striking at times it threatened to take her breath away.

Beverly sifted through her memories of her own wedding. She'd found herself doing it more and more often as Will and Deanna's nuptials approached, and she'd come to some interesting conclusions along the way.

One of which she'd resolved to address tonight, before she returned to the ship.

She took another sip of ale.

The musicians finished their song, and Beverly watched as Wes escorted his partner off the dance floor and out into the Alaskan twilight. She could see them, standing next to a low balcony and talking with their heads close together.

Butterflies stirred in her stomach as she recognized the chemistry building between the pair. No longer the worrying parent trying to protect her gifted-yet-vulnerable son, she simply stood in awe of the man he'd become.

While he resembled his father physically, she recognized the broad brushstrokes of the others who'd mentored him during those formative years on the _D_. He grew into his gangly form through Worf's tutelage, and his love of all things engineering was fostered and nearly turned into an obsession by Geordi and Data. She knew Will had taught him a lot about leadership and loyalty but—she stifled a laugh—she was also witnessing first-hand her son's use of some patently Rikeresque moves on his date.

However, it was the last man who would ever lay claim to raising her son who she could see most strongly. Jean-Luc Picard left an indelible mark on those around him, and Wes was no exception. Wes might be a Traveller, but he'd come back and was proving himself as an equally exceptional Starfleet officer.

Beverly realized in many ways Wes had grown into the perfect blend of her two best friends.

Jack would've been proud.

_And_, she added with a grin, _Jean-Luc would still be uncomfortable with the whole notion._

Beverly drained the last of the Romulan ale in her champagne flute. Will and Deanna had inspired her—she was sure it wasn't jealousy or competition—to decide it was time to break the decades-old orbit she and Jean-Luc continually danced in.

"Can I offer you some more, Doctor?" Data asked, holding the bottle close to the lip of her glass.

"No, thank you, Data," she replied. "I think I'll switch to water for a while."

Data studied her for a moment before turning back to Geordi and righting his friend's fallen glass. Geordi's head rested on the bar, and Beverly thought she could hear soft snoring between snippets of music.

Her gaze wandered over to the coffee and dessert station and to the man who stood chatting amiably with several young women. Jean-Luc's self-deprecating smile as he regaled them with what had to be a witty recounting of one of his many adventures sparked blushes and giggles from the girls.

He didn't stop speaking, nor did he give any overt indication his focus wasn't totally on his audience, but somehow he seemed to sense Beverly's attention. His eyes left the brunette in front of him for a split second, found Beverly's, and then the diplomat's smile he'd used to charm millions of beings across the galaxy became something more; something he reserved for her and her alone.

Beverly smiled in return and decided a stroll near the buffet table was in order. She needed something solid to help counteract the effects of the ale and she wanted to feel fully in control of all her faculties when he reached her side.

There was no doubt he'd come.

"Doctor," he said, appearing as she finished filling her plate.

Decades after their first meeting, his rich baritone still set off sparks in her abdomen.

"Captain," she said, quickly swallowing a bite of chicken. Her response came out throatier than she'd intended. She told herself it was the nearly suicidal sauce on the poultry, not his close proximity.

"A truly lovely evening," he said. "Everyone seems to be having a wonderful time."

Her lips quirked in a knowing grin. "But you'd rather be almost anywhere other than here."

Jean-Luc coughed and tugged on his tunic. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that—"

"You don't have to," she replied, "I know you too well. You want nothing more than to get out of that 'damned dress uniform'—which looks marvelous on you, by the way—and out of the social spotlight."

He arched an eyebrow and let his gaze travel up and down her form. "I am not the only one who wears the Whites well," he said.

Beverly's cheeks warmed as she replied, "I suppose we make quite the dashing cou—" she almost said "couple" but caught herself, "pair then."

"I never feel more dashing than when I have the honour of attending a dinner or ceremony with you on my arm," Jean-Luc replied.

Beverly laughed. "That's only because I whisper naughty comments about the dignitaries."

"Your irreverence is only one of many perks," he said, nodding in mock seriousness.

"Such as the time I suggested the Antedan ambassador was engaging in a certain type of fantasy about the roast pork? I was worried I would need to use the Heimlich Maneuver on you," she said, enjoying the memory.

"Yes, well," Jean-Luc paused and cleared his throat, "that was one of your more blatantly 'suggestive' comments, and I wasn't prepared for such a detailed recounting of another man's supposed desires."

"Speaking of desires," Beverly said, "why don't we make an escape to somewhere more private?"

Jean-Luc's ears turned pink. "What are you suggesting, Doctor?"

"A walk," she said. "I was thinking we could take a short stroll through the grounds before the Alaskan night insects get too bad, _Captain_."

He grinned and held out his arm. "Marvellous idea, _Doctor_."

Their progress across the reception hall to the doors leading outside was leisurely and punctuated with few stops as most people resisted the urge to chat the illustrious starship captain up while his attention was on her. She couldn't help noticing the group of young ladies tracking Jean-Luc's path from a respectful distance. Even they seemed to understand he was "off-limits" when she was on his arm.

Jean-Luc's shoulders visibly relaxed as they reached the relative privacy of the portico. "You're right," he said, widening his eyes in exasperation, "I do want to be anywhere other than in there."

"Most men would sell their souls for such attention."

"That's because most men can't recognize perfection when it's standing at their sides," he replied.

His words sent a shiver down Beverly's spine, and she was grateful the onset of twilight masked the worst of her blush.

They descended a shallow staircase and stepped onto the manicured lawn surrounding the reception hall. The last of the sun painted the mountains a rich gold and pink, making the rocky crags and glaciers gleam like fire. In the east, the first stars of the evening sparkled in the deepening indigo.

Beverly sighed.

"Beverly?"

She smiled and patted his arm. "It was a sigh of contentment," she said. "I can't imagine living here myself, but I can certainly see why Will loves it so much."

"Agreed."

Beverly recalled Deanna and Will's entrance into the reception hall; their bliss and happiness in one another making them glow under the spotlights. It reminded her of her own wedding. She and Jack had had the world before them then. Nothing was impossible, and it seemed like the entire universe had gathered to celebrate their future. The same feeling drifted throughout this evening like a happy fog.

Beverly loved how she could recall her time with Jack fondly; without the ache of loss that had stalked her for years. The wound had finally healed. Now, if only she could say the same of Jean-Luc...

She drifted close enough for her chest to brush his arm as they walked. She hadn't quite figured out how to initiate the discussion, so she let her thoughts roam back to the Rikers and how they'd come to find one another again.

"They have history," she said, wondering if he'd follow her line of thinking.

"The Alaskan people have an extensive history, yes. This is particularly true if you take into account the theory inhabitants from Asia migrated across the land bridge—"

Beverly laughed. "I meant Will and Deanna," she said. "But I'm sure the Alaskans have a fascinating past, too."

"Ah," Jean-Luc said. "They _have_ known each other for quite some time."

"Almost as long as we've known one another," Beverly agreed. "And yet..."

"'And yet,' what?" he said.

"And yet, rather than let their history serve as a barrier to a future together, they've used it to deepen the love that has always been there."

"Will and Deanna are a remarkable couple," Jean-Luc said. "I suspect very few people with histories as complex as theirs could make a romantic relationship work after such a long time."

Beverly pulled Jean-Luc to a stop. She turned and made certain she had his full attention before speaking.

"Do you ever wish we'd tried?" she asked.

Jean-Luc's muscles tensed under her hand—she wondered if he was even breathing—and he held her gaze without blinking.

It was the first time since those damn implants she'd overtly acknowledged what simmered beneath their friendship. Their history had seemed too complicated, too painful, to risk tackling then, and she'd walked away.

She'd regretted it every day since.

Beverly held her breath as she waited for his response. She wouldn't be surprised if he dodged the question or turned it into something more platonic; she wouldn't blame him. She'd hurt him, and he had reason to be wary.

After several moments he inhaled deeply and looked away.

_Here it comes_, she thought. _The diplomatic brush-off._

"I have, on several occasions, wished our past was different; I even believed that if I could will it away, I would," he said. "But then," he paused and faced her again, "I would remind myself we wouldn't be who we are, as individuals and as friends, without those memories; and I wouldn't change that, despite my desire to eliminate the more painful moments."

Beverly nodded and kept her expression neutral. She'd been prepared for his answer on a rational level, but she hadn't expected the emotional sting accompanying his words. She shoved the hurt away and wracked her brain for a way to end the soon-to-be-extremely-awkward conversation.

"But, yes," he said, interrupting her thoughts. "I have wished we hadn't let our history dictate our future."

Beverly's heart jumped.

She steeled herself, refusing to take the coward's way out; again.

"Do you still wish it?" she whispered.

The silence between heartbeats seemed to last for eons.

"Do you?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, without hesitation.

Beverly felt lighter than she had in ages. Admitting she still had feelings for him lanced a wound she'd let fester for far too long. For a split second his answer seemed almost irrelevant, so strong was her relief at having given voice to her desire.

She returned to the moment as a tightness in her chest reminded her his answer mattered. It mattered _very_ much.

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "Do you?"

His shocked expression at her admission melted into a slightly sheepish—yet somehow still serious—half smile.

"Yes," he whispered.

Beverly stepped in close and ran her hand up his arm until her fingers brushed the piping on his collar. She placed her other hand on his chest and whispered, "I love you, Jean-Luc Picard."

The sigh bordered on a moan as it escaped Jean-Luc's lips. He swallowed several times before blinking and offering her a tremulous smile. "Words cannot," he paused and cleared his throat before continuing. "I love you, Beverly Crusher. I always have."

Beverly bit her lip in an agony of indecision. She hadn't dared let herself imagine how the conversation would go, and found herself at a loss. "Now what?" she whispered.

Jean-Luc gave her an impish grin and ran his hands across her tunic so they rested in the small of her back. "I have to confess, I am not quite certain of the etiquette involved in seducing one's best friend."

Beverly grinned. "Why don't we start with something simple, like this."

She leaned in until her lips brushed his. He increased the pressure fractionally, and a delicious warmth rushed through her and puddled in her boots. His scent mixed with the night air, battering her senses and sending her stomach into a free fall.

Beverly pulled away and licked her lips before the kiss could go from achingly tender to intensely passionate. That moment wouldn't be far off, but she wanted to savour these initial moments. She studied Jean-Luc as he slowly opened his eyes; his expression was identical to the one he used when sampling a fine wine.

"Simply divine," he whispered, sending shivers down her spine.

Jean-Luc pulled her into another slow kiss. She gasped as his lips traced a path along her jaw and down her neck. She ran her hands up the sides of his face and into the fringe of hair along the back of his head.

"We have to go back," Beverly said, nuzzling his neck. "People will be looking for us soon."

"I know," he replied, his words tickling her earlobe.

They sighed and broke their embrace. Beverly's heart flip-flopped when Jean-Luc took her arm again and started a slow stroll back to the reception. Even a simple touch seemed nuanced with so much more.

Jean-Luc spoke softly in her ear as they ascended the steps leading up to the patio, "Stay with me."

"You think I'm going to wander off so other women can proposition you tonight, too, Captain?" she replied with a smirk. "Not on your life. You're stuck with me – tonight, tomorrow, forever."

"I can live with that," he replied as they stepped as one into the bustle and swirl of the reception hall.


End file.
